


In Sickness

by prinsessa_mouse



Series: Living in Uggr [7]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Pre-Dethklok, References to Drugs, Sickfic, Tooth-Rotting Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 20:08:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,865
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28392894
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prinsessa_mouse/pseuds/prinsessa_mouse
Summary: Magnus takes care of Skwisgaar when he comes down with the flu.(Can be read as a stand alone)
Relationships: Magnus Hammersmith/Skwisgaar Skwigelf
Series: Living in Uggr [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2021879
Comments: 4
Kudos: 3





	In Sickness

“God, I love you,” Magnus mused. He looped his arm around Skwisgaar’s thin frame to pull him upright and plaster his back to his chest. He kept the steady pace thrusting into his husband trying to elicit any type of reaction. Usually the younger man got vocal, his sounds bounced off the walls as he tried to match his husband’s pace, hands ringing at sheets or grasping for any thing around him, demands and pleading poured from his mouth when he got close. Magnus brought his free hand down to stoke his husband’s dick in perfect rhythm with his thrusts, his lips kissed at the warm sweat slicked flesh of the blonde’s neck.

Skwisgaar tried to be present. He really wanted to enjoy sex with his sober husband, he could hardly focus on the wall in front of him. His body ached severely so did his head, he didn’t know if he was hot or cold, he shuddered which got mistaken for pleasure. The cramping pain in his stomach worsened the longer Magnus fucked him while the room started to spin a bit out of control. Skwisgaar willed his body to stay upright, he could lay down soon. He loved sex; he didn’t love how disgusting he felt now.

The older man stopped his movements when Skwisgaar’s body went a bit limp in his grasp then snapped back upright. Something was wrong, his husband never acted like this. “Skwis?” he whispered.

“I am fine keeps going.”

“Talk to me,” Magnus tried again. He removed his hand from his husband’s dick and rubbed his thigh tenderly. “You’re really tense. What’s wrong?”

Skwisgaar wished he had the chance to answer. Instead, he pried Magnus’ hands off his body as he slumped forward to avoid vomiting on their mattress. He managed to lean over the edge of the bed when the first wave of puke spewed out of him onto the floor.

“Oh shit,” Magnus yelled. He removed himself gently from his husband then jumped into action. He gathered Skwisgaar’s hair before it fell into the waterfall of puke, tying it into a knot with the elastic on his wrist. He rubbed his back, all the while reassuring him it would be okay, he was there. He hated sick people; vomit disgusted him, but he pushed past the phobia for Skwisgaar. His partner started to sob as he fought the urge to be sick. “Sweetie, its okay. Don’t fight it. You’ll feel so much better if you throw up. Don’t worry about the mess I’ll handle it,” he emphasised.

“I’m sorries,” Skwisgaar wailed. He got worked up, his anxiety piqued as his stomach wrenched sending up the remainders of his lunch along with stomach acid. Thick strings of mucus hung from his nose too. He started shivering, when did the room get so cold?

Magnus took the opportunity to get up and put some boxers on. He looked over to his side of the bed to see a huge mess on the hardwood. Skwisgaar kept apologizing the whole time. He went into the bathroom to get a washcloth and hurried back into their room. “Skwis, think you can sit up for me?” he asked.

The blonde whimpered, “Nej, everythings hurt so much.”

“Okay,” the older man sighed. “How about rolling onto your side?”

Skwisgaar complied. He moved slowly; he feared his husband’s soft voice. Sometimes that meant he might lash out at him, other times he was tender and loving. “I’m so sorries Magi,” he sobbed. He really felt guilty for making a mess.

“You’re sick, sweetie. It’s not your fault,” Magnus said. He dabbed the cloth to Skwisgaar’s mouth then nose to clean up the remnants of the Great Puke Eruption. He placed the back of his hand onto his husband’s forehead that burned hot from a fever. He sighed again, “You’re burning up. Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling sick?”

“Didn’t wants to ruin our day but nows I dids.”

The older man spot checked Skwisgaar’s overly pale cheeks next like a fussing mother. “You didn’t ruin anything. You got that nasty flu Pickles had a week ago. It’ll be okay. How about I run you a bath while I clean up our room. I’ll go rent all your favorite movies and make you my mother’s Sick Day Soup. Let’s cancel band practices and work so you can actually sleep this off,” he suggested.

“I can’ts miss works or band practice,” Skwisgaar said defensively.

“Yes, you can. You’ve got the flu. The best place for you to be is home recovering.”

Skwisgaar groaned.

“Common sweetie lets get you into a nice warm bubble bath,” Magnus said. He helped his husband up off the bed, he instructed the blonde to lean against him as they slowly made their way into the adjoining bathroom. He deposited the already naked man into the empty bathtub and proceeded to fill the tub with lukewarm water. His search under the sink gave him a selection of bubble bath scents. He chose lavender, it was always calming and might be strong enough to help clear Skwisgaar’s blocked nose. His husband kept sniffling and struggling to breathe.

“Cans the water be warmer?”

Magnus turned back to the tub, testing the water with his hand. “A little bit. I don’t want to spike your fever, Skwis,” he warned. He added a bit of hot water until he felt the temperature was comfortable.

“I’m stills so cold,” Skwisgaar whined.

“I know. I’ll try to make it better, luv. I’ll go make you some tea that should help,” Magnus cooed. He poured in the bubble bath, allowing it to foam up before turning off the water. He felt extremely guilty leaving his husband alone, he clearly didn’t want to be abandoned, he was upset over the whole puke incident.

He convinced Skwisgaar he would come back.

He found the biggest mug they had and made a giant pot of green tea. He added ginger tea to the shopping list on the fridge. He planned to swing by the grocery store on his way to rent movies. He never knew his husband to get sick in the four years he knew him. He threw up the odd time when he drank too much but never sick with a sniffle or fever.

Magnus’ heart hurt seeing Skwisgaar crying in the bathtub. He took a seat down on the fuzzy bathmat and gently rubbed the back of his husband’s neck. “What’s wrong? Are you in pain? Talk to me,” he urged.

“I feels horrible,” Skwisgaar whimpered. The hand massaging his neck felt nice, it would be better kneading his aching muscles.

“Shh, I brought you tea. I need you to calm down and stop crying. I know it hurts; it sucks that you are sick but you getting worked up isn’t helping. I’m going to hand you this mug of tea while I go clean up the bedroom. I want you to drink it all,” Magnus explained. He handed over the mug to husband and left.

The bedroom stank. The puddle of vomit was huge. How could so much come out of such a thin human? It was essentially Skwisgaar’s weight in bile on their bedroom floor. Magnus groaned. He hated cleaning with a passion. However, it would be downright cruel to suggest that his husband should clean up this mess. He dug through the hall closet for the proper cleaning supplies and settled on bleach. He got on his hands and knees to scrub at the floor. He ended up cleaning the hardwood around the whole bedroom not just his side of the bed. He removed the bedsheets, switching them even though they were clean.

His next mission was getting Skwisgaar out of the bathtub. He swaddled him up in a pair of sweats, tank top, sweater, and a pair of socks. He tucked him into their bed with another cup of tea on the bedside table. He put an extra blanket on the bed and laid a box of Kleenex next to his husband. Magnus took a seat on the bed; he affectionately petted his husband’s hair. “I need to get Tylenol since we’re out. What movies do you want me to rent?” he asked.

“Mads Max, Dark Crystal, The Greats Outdoors, and whatsever you want,” Skwisgaar sniffled. He grabbed a tissue from the box of Kleenex to blow his congested nose.

Magnus ruffled his hair, “Okay luv. I’m going to pop out for a bit. You stay in bed. If you’re going to throw up again there is a bucket on the floor.”

“Tack älskling.”

“Inga problem sötnos,” the older man replied. The tiny bit of effort speaking Swedish got a smile out of Skwisgaar.

The younger man heeded the warning to stay in bed. He didn’t get sick very often and the few times he did were usually the flu. His mom sometimes took care of him, he took care of himself mostly. Magnus seemed concerned. His voice turned softer; his gentle approach different from his normal short patience. He overcompensated in his speech; he talked a lot because he hated silence but his method of speaking with understanding showed off his compassionate side. Skwisgaar liked all the terms of endearment, his husband’s effort to speak Swedish to him brightened his somewhat dim day.

Magnus was right, sleep helped. Skwisgaar drifted off after a few sips of tea and didn’t wake up until early evening. He didn’t expect to find the TV in their bedroom or his husband laying in bed next to him reading.

“Hallå.”

“Hur mår du?” Magnus asked. He set his book down and instinctually put his hand on Skwisgaar’s forehead to check his temperature.

Skwisgaar sighed. The cold hand against his burning hot flesh soothed him. “Horribles, I has weirds dreams,” he said.

“You had a fever dream,” the older man said. “Let’s get you up. I got Tylenol, soups cooked just needs to be reheated and I’ll get you drinking a lot of fluids. That should help.”

“Yous been so goods to me. I really apprekiates it.”

Magnus’ hand moved from the sweat slicked forehead down to caress Skwisgaar’s sharp cheekbones. How could he ever lose sight of how wonderful his husband was? He didn’t deserve praise; he should be good to his partner every day. Guilt ate away at him slowly. He owed Skwisgaar his compassion and patience. Lord knew he got it more than most humans got in their entire lives. “I love you so much. You know that I am here to take care of you, anytime right?” he asked.

“Ja, I knows,” Skwisgaar said. A rather aggressive cough hit him sending him upright as he wheezed and choked on phlegm buildup. His whole chest ached as he continued to cough. Magnus’ tender moment replaced with rubbing his back as he told him to stay calm. He hated being sick and the thought that someone small like Pickles had the same sickness worried him.

“You’re going to be okay, honey. I’ll make it all better. I promise, Skwis. Whatever I can do to make you feel better I’ll do it,” Magnus vowed. He spent a great deal of time in his head while he went grocery shopping. He mentally kicked himself for his shortcomings as a husband. He believed he could stay off the drugs to take care of Skwisgaar. The younger man resisted his help when he hurt him. Magnus learned to wait until his husband came to bed that he was permitted get ice for an injury or hold him as he cried. Sorry stopped having any meaning, he’d get high and throw a punch again. He’d trashed their house, put holes in the walls, and terrorize Skwisgaar. The next day, it was an awkward silence when they cleaned up the house. Being able to take care of his sick husband gave him a bit of redemption. It reminded him that he should go to rehab.

Skwisgaar’s hand desperately grabbed a hold of Magnus’ free one while he wheezed through the coughing spell.

“Skwisgaar, sweetie. Love of my life, you’re okay. You just need to calm down. I know its scary not being able to breathe. If you get worse, I’ll take you to see a doctor,” he promised.

“I don’ts like doctors,” the blonde whined.

Magnus sighed, “I know but if we have to go, we will. The cost doesn’t matter. I have insurance so its not something you need to worry about.”

“Wills I ever gets better?”

“You will. Pickles is on the mend and Nathan is coming down with it. William is fine, I feel fine too. We just need to get you up out of this bed to eat,” Magnus suggested.

Skwisgaar complied. He got out of bed, shuffling slowly behind his husband into the kitchen where the table was already set for them to have supper. The chair got pulled out for him to take a seat, two glasses sat next to the big bowl.

“Would you like ginger ale or orange juice?”

“Gingers ale,” the blonde sniffled. He didn’t really care what he drank or ate. He would take what Magnus offered him. He watched as his husband got his glasses filled with ginger ale and water, he went back to the stove to reheat the soup all the while casually chatting about his adventures of shopping. Paying attention got difficult. The fever made it hard for him to think about anything except the room being a bit out of focus.

Magnus switched topics to music. They talked about the upcoming gig, how each of them hopefully kicked the flu by then. There would be no cancelling, sick or not they planned to attend the show. It would be the biggest venue they played yet.

The soup was exactly what Skwisgaar needed. It was somewhat spicy, causing his nose to run and his airway to clear a bit. He really liked Magnus’ cooking; he got rather fond of vegetable-based dishes when they first started living together. The soup known as Sick Day Soup really did the trick. Skwisgaar managed to eat the whole bowl as well as a bun. He even managed a small second helping of soup.

“Glad to see your appetite isn’t being effected,” Magnus commented. He cleared the table after his own meal and offered Skwisgaar a third helping that went rejected.

“Your mom’s soups is almost likes cure.”

The older man smiled while he turned back to his sink full of dishes. “She cooked the most amazing food. My parents believed in tough love, you earned love and respect from them. They always fed my sister and I well. We loved to help my mom in the kitchen,” he rambled.

“Wills I ever meets them?”

Magnus stopped scrubbing a pot and pondered the question. How to approach the topic without insulting his husband. How could he explain the shame he felt being related to them? “Probably not,” he replied.

“Oh,” Skwisgaar mumbled. “Is it me? If it ams us I understands. Not every parent wills accepts us.”

“My mom died from cancer when I started university. As for my dad, I wouldn’t put you through such a homophobic experience of being around him.”

Skwisgaar leaned back in his chair, he sipped at his ginger ale while his husband resumed the dishes. The conversation seemed to deflate the confident stance of his partner. “I am sorries,” he apologized.

“It’s okay. My sister would really like you though. She’s a bit different, my parents were always ashamed of her because she was born with Down Syndrome but she’s the most amazing person in the world. God blessed our family with her, she’s truly an angel,” Magnus said. Maybe she could be the silver lining to this conversation, some hope there was a Hammersmith out there that he might one day introduce his husband too.

“What is her names?”

Magnus abandoned his dished to turn around to look at his husband. “Her name is Bridget, but I always called her Birdie because she loves to sing like a little bird. No one can tell her no, she’s strong-willed and never let anyone tell her she couldn’t accomplish something. She really loves working with special needs children. She does it through the community to open up more activities and let people with disabilities be included. I really admire that she has such a big heart to love everyone no matter what. Sorry, I’m rambling. She’s the best thing to come from our family and the only one I would introduce you too if we visited my hometown,” he trailed off.

“She makes you happies. That makes me happies to sees you this way,” Skwisgaar said sincerely.

“Well, I’ll dig out my family photos and give you the family tour if you’re interested.”

The blonde nodded. He didn’t mention finding the box of photos and snooping through them. Being walked through Magnus’ childhood might be refreshing. He asked a few times without much success of getting answers.

“If you’re done why don’t you head back to bed. I’ll be in after the dishes are done,” Magnus said.

“Where ams the movies?”

The older man grinned, “I left them all in the bedroom. I got a huge selection for us both and William waived the late fees. The perks of that job of yours!”

“I gets first picks. I ams the youngest and sick ones,” Skwisgaar said sassily.

“That’s fair. William made suggestions for you and me. Hopefully, nothing to weird that you’ll have weirder fever dreams. Hey, wait,” Magnus called after his husband. “Take that Tylenol on the bedside table while you’re in there!”

The younger man took the Tylenol when he got back to the bedroom then sifted through the pile of movies until he found Silence of the Lambs. He knew William suggested that one to his husband. He crawled back into bed, cocooning himself in the blankets while he waited for Magnus to join him. He rested his eyes, the aching in his head slowly dulled while the Tylenol kicked in. He didn’t notice Magnus getting into bed with him or the remote being pried from his hand.

The movie started. Magnus got himself comfortably propped upright against the wall so Skwisgaar’s head could rest in his lap. He played with his husband’s hair, some of the strands escaped the messy knot a top his head. “Do you want a pillow for your head?” the older man asked.

“Nej, I ams good. Don’t knows if I cans stay awake though,” Skwisgaar mumbled tiredly.

“I’ll rewind it if you wake up.”

Skwisgaar nuzzled his face into his husband’s lap. He didn’t bother opening his eyes, he sniffled and cleared his throat. He shifted until his body stopped aching so much from being awkwardly curled up in the fetal position. The drugs and food helped, the best cure was Magnus being present and aware of his needs.

“I got cough drops if you need one,” Magnus added. His hands massaged over the potential sore spots of his husband’s body. He didn’t care about the movie, the congested breathing worried him. The fever still seemed high, hopefully drugs and sleep would bring it down in the morning.

“Just keeps doings what you doings. Feels nice,” Skwisgaar responded.

Magnus continued to massage his husband’s aching muscles until his body went limp. He stopped kneading his pale skin in favor of lightly tracing his fingers along his arms and back. He prayed his poor Skwisgaar kicked the flu faster than Pickles. He figured he’d come down with it in a few days, no doubt his husband’s selfless nature would turn the tables on who was responsible for taking care of who.

The situation sucked, Skwisgaar being sick reminded him of his vows. He promised to love him faithfully through the good and bad times regardless of the obstacles. He offered his hand, heart, and love to this man. When he did drugs, he didn’t think of Skwisgaar or marriage. His fingers grazed over his husband’s shoulder where he burned him with a cigarette three weeks ago. The abuse he inflicted on the younger man made him ill when he sobered up. He didn’t like who he became on the drugs or when he went through withdrawal. When he hid the drug use, he spared Skwisgaar the drawn-out suffering. He couldn’t go back and fix what he did in the past however he planned to try cutting back on his drug use. Skwisgaar took care of him all the time without complaint. He owed his husband the same selfless love and dedication.

He didn’t worry about his favorite pair of sweats being drooled on or the snot dripping onto the leg. He gently touched Skwisgaar as if he’d break under too much pressure. Enough touch to sooth him and keep him asleep. He took Kleenex to wipe away the snot running from his partner’s nose. It didn’t bother him in the least.

When you love somebody, you’ll do anything for them.

Magnus accepted he’d relapse.

His reign of terror would return to their home.

Nothing was sacred within these walls. Their lives were plagued with a darkness that devoured them the longer they fought to keep themselves from rotting away in their graves.

Magnus’ grave of heroin.

Skwisgaar’s grave of perfectionism.

The older man sighed. He missed most of the movie because he got caught up in his own loathing. The voices in his head were speaking clearly. They brought him back to their wedding day and the promises they made to each other. The vows that dedicated their whole love to one another. The teachings of the bible haunted him from his days reading it aloud to his mother as a punishment.

His forced education of the bible reminded him the most important thing…

_Love is patient, love is kind._

“First Corinthians thirteen,” Magnus mused aloud.

Skwisgaar shifted a bit only to settle.

_It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres._

Magnus gulped, “Love never fails.”

“Jag älskar dig, Magi,” Skwisgaar yawned.

“I love you too sötnos. Go back to sleep,” Magnus commanded lightly. His hands resumed their loving touch, tracing little love messages onto his husband’s back.

He still believed in the higher powers and he thanked them for reminding him of that verse.

The other voices screamed louder trying to drown out his good intentions.

Skwisgaar tiredly got up to lay properly on the bed, his hands grabbing for Magnus blindly.

“I’m right here, baby,” Magnus promised. He wrapped his arms protectively around Skwisgaar’s body and buried his nose into his hair. He made sure not to squeeze him too tight. The blonde sniffled as his breathing evened out when he fell back asleep. Magnus peppered a few more kisses to his husband’s neck before he closed his eyes.

“I’ll always be here for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Because Magnus can have moments he is good to Skwisgaar even in this fucked up relationship.  
> It's also Magnus' turn to view the relationship and hold onto a bit of the narrating instead of our lovely Skwisgaar!  
> I hope this was a bit of a refreshing break before we dive back into Skwisgaar's hell.  
> Happy Reading <3


End file.
